


Earn the Crown

by dysphorie



Series: drabble drabble, bitch bitch [3]
Category: John 5 (Musician), Marilyn Manson (Band), Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Eating, Drabble, Edgeplay, Felching, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, gotta eat the booty like groceries, i don't make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 06:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysphorie/pseuds/dysphorie
Summary: John just wants to come, but Jim wants to eat the booty like groceries ¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	Earn the Crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feistycadavers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistycadavers/gifts), [Wintress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintress/gifts).

> For feistycadavers, cos she deserves nice things, and wintress, because without her I would get literally no writing done

He can’t breathe. His hair’s hanging in his eyes and sweat’s dripping off his nose onto John’s back, and he can’t fucking breathe. He doesn’t stop though, because he’s so fucking close he can taste it like bile in his throat. John nearly came for the first time at least ten, fifteen minutes ago, and it nearly killed Jim to stop and keep him on that edge, but the next time was easier. And the time after that.

Now he’s driving towards a fourth time. John probably thinks Jim will let him come this time, after all it hurts Jim to deny him. Jim loves making John come, loves the way he falls apart for him. So much.

Tightening his thighs around John’s hips he lays himself down over his back as he speeds up his thrusts, rakes his fingers through John’s hair as he bites at his neck and ear and husks, “Do not fucking come, you hear me?”

John’s whine damn near breaks Jim’s heart. It’s so heartfelt, the way he sniffs as fresh tears soak into the pillow. He strokes the sweaty hair out of John’s face, kisses the salt from his skin, telling him how proud he is of him as he slams his hips harder and faster against that sweet little ass. The cries coming from between John’s gritted teeth make him feel dizzy, especially when a particularly rough thrust makes him properly wail. It’s fucking music to Jim’s ears.

So much so that he manages to push in one, two, three more times before he stills, mouth dropping open silently before a loud wheezy moan rolls from his throat, right into John’s ear, as he empties himself inside John’s tight little body.

_ How John manages to not blow his whole load right there and then is anyone’s guess, but with a clench of his stomach muscles and picturing Ted Nugent humping one of his beloved telecasters, he manages to quell the burning urge. He can feel Jim pulsing inside him, pressing right up against that spot, and he fists his hands in his hair and buries his face in the pillow as Jim rides it out. Waiting for that warm weight to leave his back while he gets his breath back. The tightness between his thighs is borderline unbearable. It’s all he can think about. _

Jim’s arms shake as he plants his hands firmly on John’s shoulders and pushes himself up, a soft ‘ _ oof’ _ wheezing out of John. “Sorry baby,” Jim chuckles, sitting back onto John’s thighs. He can feel the tension in the muscles of his back, and he works his thumbs into them as he smooths his hands downwards. That flesh quivers under his fingertips. He doesn’t want John to relax completely though.

Not yet.

_ John can barely think straight. He heard Jim say something to him but he couldn’t quite process it. His brain is full of clouds, dark and heavy, and face is wet with tears and sticky with drool. Jim’s weight it still too heavy for him to move, and he’s so desperate to grind against the bed or roll over and get his hand on himself, anything to get some sort of fucking stimulation. Even Jim rubbing the tension from his muscles is driving him crazy, especially when he gets to the small of his back, Jim’s first grip pushing him harder into the bed. It should be good but there’s no friction and it just adds to the frustration. Another sob creaks out. _

_ At last Jim moves, swinging a leg back, hands travelling down and cupping that crease at the top of John’s legs gently as he braces himself. He sighs, relieved, and makes to roll over. _

_ Those hands, those large and strong hands that John loves so much, suddenly tighten around his thighs. _

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jim brings the leg he’d lifted down between John’s, pressing between them and forcing his legs apart. He pushes harder against John’s thighs, pushing him harder into the bed. Slowly he eases them open wider, makes himself comfortable between them. His thumbs slide up, dipping into that soft crease and parting it gently. A drip of come starts to leak out. John’s hole looks fucked and abused, glazed and inviting.  _ Fuck _ , Jim wants it. “I’m not done with you yet.”

_ John’s still too muzzy to really comprehend what’s going on. He feels stupid and sluggish and his cock’s fucking aching. Jim’s voice sounds like he’s underwater, far away and nebulous, and John wants to respond to it but all he can focus on right now is how he’s literally drooling with need. He can feel the damn spot in the covers beneath him. Jim either needs to make him come or leave him alone long enough to do it himself, he can’t take anymore teasing. _

_ The tension’s starting to ease a little. Not much, but enough that he’s not in physical pain anymore. Just mental, emotional.  _

_ Everything tightens right back up again when a wet tongue licks a long flat strip from his balls, right up the crease of his ass. He jerks with a yelp, suddenly electrified back into the moment. _

He starts slowly, gently; just soft little licks over and around John’s hole, taking care not to tease or tickle. Easing him into it. Jim knows he’s strung high and overstimulated right now, but that doesn’t mean he wants to see John lose it right away. With the barest pressure he presses his thumbs against John’s perineum, keeping that pressure on as he moves to hold his ass cheeks tight and pull him open just a little bit wider.  _ Christ _ , John tastes good, even through the taste of his own come. He’s trying to take his time, work John up again slowly but surely, but he can feel his temperature rising and the frenzy starting to build in his gut. Between having John’s hole under his mouth and his tiny sobby whines in his ear, he’s feeling himself start to rev up all over again. His cock’s twitching with interest, but he ignores it, focusing his attention on eating John as thoroughly as possible.

_ There’s a high-pitched keening sound, and it takes John a second to realise it’s coming from himself. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, and the slow gentle way Jim is licking him and mouthing at him is agonising because it’s incredible but it’s not enough. Jim’s still got too strong a grip on him to let him move much, even when he tries to arch his back to push his ass closer to Jim’s face. With a howl of something between pleasure and frustration, he pushed up onto his elbows, clutching his hair in two fists again.  _

_ “Please,” he begs, choking and hiccuping on the word. “Please Jim, I need - I need -”  _

Whatever John was trying to say is lost in a long low moan when Jim fits his mouth over him and starts to suck. Hard. The salty bite of his come floods his mouth, and Jim feels like a man possessed, the assault on his senses kicking him into overdrive. Fitting his hands into the hollows of John’s hips he pulls him up firmly, dragging him to his knees and ignoring the squeak of protest. He keeps him low, legs splayed wide, just high enough to give Jim enough room to reach between John and the bed to get a grip on his dick. He keeps his grip loose and his strokes slow,  _ just _ a little slower than the swipes of his tongue. It’s cruel but if he’s going to undo John at last, he’s going to do it properly.

_ John’s pretty sure he’s going to die. He’s going to die with Jim’s tongue in his ass and Jim’s hand on his dick, and the memories of the obscene noises of Jim’s filthy licks and kisses are going to be the only things he takes with him to the grave. The head of his cock brushes the bedclothes every so often and it’s so excruciatingly sensitive that it borders on pain but it’s perfect. Just enough to help stave his orgasm off just a little longer, because despite being desperate to come for the better part of an hour he never wants this to end. Precome strings between his cock and the bed and the ideal of wantonly spilling his load right there, straight onto the covers, makes his thighs tremble. Fuck, he’s exhausted. But his orgasm’s right there, it’s right there and he just needs Jim to push him far enough to catch it. He’d beg him again but his one working brain cell fucking short-circuited around the time Jim started sucking. _

_ God _ , Jim would stay here forever if he could. Would do nothing but eat John out for days on end. Nothing else matters when he’s got John with him, under him,  _ in _ him. He’s the sunshine that warms the back of his neck and the fire that fills his belly. What did he ever do without him? Him and all his musical little moans that hit Jim like raindrops. When he’s with John is the only time he feels like he can fucking breathe.

He’s lapping harder and faster, and he feels John convulse under him when he quickly sucks his finger and slides it home. He’s still so obscenely stretched, still so full of come. Jim wants to suck out every drop. Licking around it, technique thrown to the wind, he rubs against the slick walls until he finds his target.

_ John comes. There’s no preamble, Jim’s finger touches his prostate and it’s game over. He makes a noise like he’s been stabbed, and he kinda feels like he has, come streaming from him like blood. Jim’s still fucking licking at him, the sadist, working him through the waves that keep smashing against him. By the time the aftershocks start hitting, he can barely do more than whimper. But there’s that feeling; that overwhelming bliss when the clouds go from dark and stormy to pink and gold, fluffy and buoyant. He’s flying, sky-high on the rush. He doesn’t feel Jim pull away, doesn’t hear him lick the come off his hand til it’s as clean as John’s ass. Weariness is right behind the pleasure though, and his knees start to tremble. _

Jim grabs John’s hips again, gently, and eases John over onto his side, angling him away from the wet spot and guiding him down on his back. For the second time he brushes that angelic hair back off John’s face, but he lets him stop gasping for breath before he leans in for a kiss. John tastes worn out, sleepy and happy, which is all Jim wants. They lie there together, sticky and sweaty and fucked out, peppering lazy kisses wherever they can reach. Jim cradles John against his chest, whispering sweet nothings into his hair until he feels John relax completely, his breathing evening out with little huffs of air. Smiling, Jim rests his cheek on that platinum fluff and finally lets sleep claim him.

**Author's Note:**

> dysphorie-by-the-sea.tumblr.com


End file.
